


Dues Ex Martin-a

by Sphealrical



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Kissing, M/M, Post-The Watcher's Crown (The Magnus Archives), based on a tweet i think about near-daily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24796333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sphealrical/pseuds/Sphealrical
Summary: Sometimes Jon needs the reminder that there's still something worth loving about him, but, at the same time, they have to be careful. He promised.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 14
Kudos: 144





	Dues Ex Martin-a

Sometimes, when Jon is feeling especially horrible—a worthless, pitiful excuse for a man—Martin refuses to keep moving until Jon kisses him.

He’s not quite sure… how long they’ve been kissing, if he’ll be quite honest. He would normally be embarrassed about such a thing, but…

Well…

Jon concentrates on holding himself back. His fingers cramp in trying not to curl around the nape of Martin’s neck; dig his nails in to the tender spot behind Martin’s ear and savor Martin’s body heat as he arches into Jon. He aches to part his lips, to slot Martin’s mouth in his and drink in the taste of them. It would be so  _ easy. _ Martin’s cheek twitches under Jon’s thumb, and Jon Knows: he’s thinking it too.

But they won’t risk the noise.

They don’t need to part for breath in the traditional sense, but Jon knows from experience that he’ll forget himself if they don’t. There’s an intoxicating, lightheaded dizziness that comes with kissing Martin, but he made Martin a promise. He intends to keep it.

So, as soon as he can feel his senses beginning to fog, he tilts his chin back and silently breaks their connection.

Martin’s eyes flutter open. Jon watches, chest aching, as Martin remembers where the two of them are. What the world is now. Martin does his best to try and hide as he mourns the old world, but in the split second when they break, the grief hits Martin like it’s the first time. It makes Jon want to wrap Martin up so nothing can hurt him ever again. It makes Jon wish he could travel back and strangle himself. More than anything: it adds fuel to the resolve that Jon will make Jonah Magnus  _ suffer  _ for what he’s done.

Jon pays careful attention to his breathing, now that they’ve parted. It’d be easy to exhale audibly, either in a pant or a sigh, but he won’t. He also won’t say anything first. He promised.

“How’re we doing?” Martin asks, voice hushed as quietly as possible.

Jon checks the periphery of his supernatural senses. There are only four eyes here. “Still clear.”

Martin sighs through his nose and rests his forehead against Jon’s. 

Three months is no time at all, really. Not nearly enough time to properly get to know someone. As petulant as it sounds, Jon can’t help but think that it’s just not fair. They’d only just started to learn the shape of the other. To find where to quirk their fingers and play the instrument of the other’s nerves into a beautiful symphony. He can never even come close to saying “I love you” enough times, but if he’d said it once a day for every day of peace they’d had, he wouldn’t even break a hundred.

It’s selfish, to find that thought more sad than the billions of other souls suffering on the new Earth because of him. But Jon has always been a selfish man, in his own way.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Martin whispers in the breath they share.

Jon wonders where to start. “I love you,” he tries, but the sentiment sweeps over his senses, and he leans in again before he’s gotten the full sentence out. Martin’s fingers squeeze Jon’s elbows, and he tilts his head further to better fit Jon’s lips on top of his.

Jon wants to ask how Martin got so good at this. He wants to know if Martin’s practiced, and, if he has, how. He wants to have awkward conversations about Martin’s old relationships and why they didn’t work out so Jon knows what to do better. He wants to sit and stammer through questions about where Martin’s boundaries lie in regards to public affection. Even something as simple and banal as where Martin prefers to sit in a movie theater feels important.

But none of these matter anymore. There is no possible precedent in regards to relationships which might cover traversing the literal apocalypse together. It’s no longer viable to find “privacy” in which to delineate from “being in public”. They’ll never go to a movie theater together and awkwardly stand by the ramp and negotiate which seats they want.

Jonah Magnus saw fit to that. 

In this world where he’s taken everything from them, they won’t let him have these precious moments together too. Martin won’t let him see, won’t give him the satisfaction of the sounds of their happiness. Jon promised he wouldn’t either. It felt so easy to, at the time.

But out here, anything can be turned into a recording against them. There is no space truly free of Jonah Magnus’s reach, and any small noise can become a broadcast.

So… So they hold their breath. They cling to each other, protective and possessive. They soak in what little contact and passion they can. This is a world which will rip comforts away at the root, but Jon will be damned if he’s going to let anything try to take Martin away from him.

And yet, it’s the loneliest he’s ever felt, not being able to devote himself completely into the one he loves.

Martin’s the first to pull away this time, leaving their foreheads together. Jon peels his lids open to find Martin searching deep into his eyes.

He offers the tiniest of smiles. It breaks Jon’s heart. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon says.

Martin’s brow furrows. “For what?” he asks.

For what.  _ For what. _

Jon could cry.

“I wish I could do more to show you what you… that is, what I—”

Another small smile, this one fond, crushing his words off from the air swept from his lungs.

“I know, Jon.”

“It feels like we didn’t get to…” Jon’s not sure how he meant to finish that sentence. It dies on his tongue.

Martin glances down. As painful as his smile is, his frown is ten times worse. “Agreed. I… I guess I just thought we’d have more time?”

“We  _ should  _ have. If, If I hadn’t—”

Martin shushes him, draws out the noise into something soothing. “None of that. Not here. Not right now.” He cards his fingers through the hair at his temples and down behind his ears. “You can boo and hoo tomorrow. I, I just—”

“No.” Jon takes a deep breath. “No, you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he lilts, smug.

Jon could cry, could scream at the intensity of the feeling swelling in his chest. It burns him from the inside out.

“Of course.” It comes out as a croak, and Jon buries his face into Martin’s neck. He burrows into Martin, pressing as close as he can. Martin wraps his arms around Jon’s back. 

He is Martin’s. And there really is no better honor, in this world or the last, than this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you like it! Please come yell with me about TMA or stellar firma [ on twitter!!!!](twitter.com/sphealrical)


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